


As You Wish

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: Bunniverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Glorfindel delivers a message to Gildor at Meluinen and asks a favor of him.  Gildor negotiates.





	As You Wish

"Well, well, well... to what do I owe such a delightful surprise?" Gildor Inglorion exited his home upon the advice of one of his followers that there was a messenger he might wish to speak with personally. The lord of the wanderers stepped languidly down the path, his bare feet padding on the cool rocks. "This reminds me of something..." he murmured, letting his gaze drift up at the trees and clouds before settling on the unexpected guest. "Welcome... Lord Glorfindel," he said, bowing to the Vanya, arms sweeping back in unnecessary formality. 

"Good evening." Glorfindel's cheeks flushed when Gildor held the submissive position far longer than he needed. "Alright, then, Gildor," he admonished, finally stepping forward to reach under his chin to tilt his head. "Has it really been that long?" he said with a smirk as Gildor stood up again, smoothing out the lengths of colorful fabric that hung down from his shoulders. It was some sort of a loose robe without actual sleeves, blue that faded to grey and then back to purples and reds, under which Gildor casually wore a pair of comfortable brown trousers and a burgundy shirt. The laces of the shirt were left untied, and from the thick braid from which wayward strands escaped, Glorfindel could only guess that Gildor had slept in and not had plans to receive guests today. 

"Months at least," scolded the elder Elf. "But your visit is much appreciated." Gildor took hold of the scroll that Glorfindel held out to him, but Glorfindel held fast to it and tugged it away. Gildor pouted. "Not mine? I suppose you are enough of a delivery," he decided with a wink.

"This is for you, but I wished to explain it first."

Gildor put his hands upon his hips a moment, scrutinizing Glorfindel, until he finally nodded. "Inside, love," he said, his cloakish robes billowing around him as he turned and marched himself back to the house. Glorfindel followed, leaving Asfaloth in the care of one of the minstrels outside.

Once the door was closed behind them, Gildor made his way to a table where he poured an extra glass of wine and picked up a tray of tarts and cheese. He offered the glass to Glorfindel, who accepted it with his free hand, then led him to a spot where pillows had been piled up and a book was left opened and turned upside down. Gildor set the tray on one of the marble steps and lifted the book, making a note of the page before he closed it. "Join me, love, unless this is the formal sort of explanation which will require a desk and a fair amount of 'hmms' and 'I sees'."

Glorfindel set the glass and the scroll down in order to remove his travel cloak. "I doubt it," he said. "In fact, I considered writing to you about it, but I thought we could both use the visit." He picked up the goblet, but left the scroll behind. 

"Elrond?"

"No."

"...Auntie?"

"No." Glorfindel smirked. "No one... well, I would say no one important, but then, is any one person really all that important?"

"Oh, certainly not. No one of any importance anywhere. None that I see." Gildor chuckled and patted some of the nearby pillows. "Sit. Relax. You look tense," he decided as Glorfindel knelt down but did not lounge. Gildor repositioned himself so that he could remove Glorfindel's boots and then settled behind him. "When was the last time Elrond gave you leave for holiday?" Gildor asked as he dug his fingers into the tense muscles between Glorfindel's neck and shoulders.

"Early this year," he recalled, receiving a scolding click of the tongue.

"And you did not visit me then.. shame on you." Gildor moved his hands down, kneading the massively muscled shoulders. While Glorfindel was an obvious warrior, Gildor was an obvious artisan. His long, flexible fingers were ready to instantly draw music from harp strings, his feet even now curled their toes, itching to dance. He pressed his fingertips now into the small of Glorfindel's back, and the warrior swayed forward slightly with a sigh. "Come on, lie down. I promise not to press my advantage."

"Yet," mumbled Glorfindel, but he stretched out, and after some coaxing, removed his heavy suede tunic. 

Gildor playfully drew lines over the wrinkles in the white silk of Glorfindel's shirt and alternated this with massage to the shoulders which were just beginning to relax. "Friends or colleagues?" he finally asked.

"Mmm..." Glorfindel rolled over and moved his arms behind his head to prop it up. "Do you recall the very young rune-keeper Erestor was training?"

For a moment, Gildor tilted his head in thought, and then looked back at Glorfindel. "Yes. The one who cannot speak."

"Well, he only speaks Westron, but I think you know him, then."

"Silver hair, wears grey, does not hear a thing?"

Glorfindel took a moment to look confused, then shook his head. "I know which one you are thinking of. No, this was the one before that, and before the girl." 

"Good lord, how many of them is he training?" muttered Gildor. "Elrond had best watch his back, lest he find Erestor with his own army of rock-wielding wizards!"

"Erestor is loyal; and he is not starting an army."

Gildor grumbled about this, too. "So there is a rune-keeper...?"

"Very young rune-keeper, just beyond his majority. His companion is a minstrel; they are interested in traveling here and joining your company," explained Glorfindel. 

"You mean for once there are Elves who are preferring to leave the comforts of Imladris to venture out here instead of the other way around?" Gildor displayed his most shocked expression, but it soon deteriorated into a sympathetic look when Glorfindel turned his head away, brow furrowed. "So.. what happened?" he asked as he touched Glorfindel's shoulder lightly.

"They were in Isengard," said Glorfindel softly. "They were part of the first wave that went in; they were in captivity.. I would wager two months? We only debriefed Captain Eledu and the second party that went in to rescue them and complete the job."

"Captain Eledu was in Isengard?" Gildor frowned. "I assume there were no casualties?"

"We were lucky in that regard."

Gildor nodded. "So what you are really telling me is that after Isengard, this is a picnic, and neither of them are ready or willing to return to life in the valley."

"I have a feeling there is more than that, but I will let them explain that to you," suggested Glorfindel.

Idly, Gildor slid his fingers down the golden plait, and then began to unwind the strands. Glorfindel turned his head to the side so that Gildor could continue his work, creating a waves of silken gold in his path. "What sort of musician is she? Flautist, harper, lutenist?"

Glorfindel ran his tongue along his teeth, bit at it slightly, then answered, "He is a master of many instruments, but if Elrond were asked, he would count him as a harper. You may well have heard him while visiting Rivendell."

"Ah, that is why you are bringing them to me," interrupted Gildor, giving Glorfindel a sly look. "Rivendell... so like Gondolin in all the ways I most despised," Gildor added.

"That is not why... they have no idea about... I keep my personal life fairly personal. Behind closed doors." Glorfindel was flushed, and he sat up. "Not that it is a secret to my closest friends and family, but I appreciate... discretion with the general population. Besides, that is not it at all. You know that Rivendell is very welcoming for us and those like us, but it is bustling with activity. They need a place to rest and be away from all of the questioning." 

"Ah.. that is why you did not come prepared to stay more than the night." Gildor sighed. "I feel as if this is an ideal opportunity to blackmail you.. I let them stay here on the condition you do, too... not forever, just a month or two," continued Gildor as Glorfindel was about to object. "It would be like that summer when you spent your time with us in Evendim, climbing the mountains, riding the exotic animals to our destinations, sleeping beneath the stars... no one is quite as talented at juggling as you are," said Gildor as he settled down beside Glorfindel, nuzzling him for a moment. He sat up and added as he played with Glorfindel's hair again, "I miss you. I know you keep your secrets for me... you worry what the enemy would do if he found this haven, or how he would use us against you. I know you are one of his greatest enemies. Think about it, though -- so am I. What he would not do to get to the son of the man who killed one of his greatest allies."

"With his bare teeth at that," recalled Glorfindel. He paused, then sat up as well. "I need to ask-- it bothers me not knowing... do you have a brother?"

"No." Gildor frowned. "Not that I--" He rolled his eyes. "Oh, him. No. I... well, maybe father did..." He wigggled the fingers of one hand. "He was well-liked by many, Amma, you know, she stayed in Valinor... but I doubt it. Is he still alive? I am surprised he did not succeed in killing himself by now, or... or... drowned in a sea of his own tears or something."

"I had to ask."

"You seriously thought I was related to that character who just appears out of nowhere claiming my father as his and singing the--"

"I had to ask!" Glorfindel shrugged helplessly. "He knows a lot about your father."

Gildor lifted his hand and waved it around the room they were in. It was a scholar's dream had they been interested in First Age history -- one part library, one part archive, and everything a shrine to the late Finrod Felagund. "Maybe he reads a lot." He coaxed Glorfindel to lie down again, rubbing his shoulders once more as he changed the topic. "So you want me to adopt a rune-keeper and a harper. The harper I can understand. Why do I want a rune-keeper out here? Let me rephrase that. Why do I want one of Erestor's rune-keepers out here?"

"Because you love me?" Glorfindel stretched out and rolled back onto his stomach. "I think you will find him.. refreshing as far as rune-keepers go. It seems he is also reacquainting himself following the captivity."

"Fire, water, ice, lightning... what are the other damnable ways they can ruin someone's day... oh, light, sarcasm, diplomacy..." 

Glorfindel chuckled. "Now who could that have been... really, though, I think you will find he is different. He is a healer. His affinity is to fire, but his hands are meant for healing, not fighting. Also, he cooks."

"Oh, you were going to hold out on me on that," scolded Gildor, playfully flicking Glorfindel's ear. "In that case, send them immediately!"

"You may even recognize the harper," Glorfindel explained. "He has been in Rivendell for centuries. Reserved, and very good at his craft. Elrond once named him the fastest harper this side of the sea, and for someone who knew Maglor, that is saying much."

"That sounds like something with a wonderful story behind it," remarked Gildor.

Glorfindel closed his eyes. "Indeed. There was a cocky hunter from Lothlorien who fancied himself a harper -- and he was certainly not terrible at the craft. But he proclaimed in the Hall of Fire, likely after heavily drinking, that he was the faster harper, and began to play for any whom would listen. Now it happened that Elrond was sitting on the balcony in the company of myself and others of his council, and we slowly made our way down and through the crowd. His fingers were bleeding by the time he had finished, and he had broken two strings. 

"The applause was great; however, Elrond held a hand high for silence after a little while, and then said to him something like 'Your skills are to be admired, but I fear it is my duty to inform you that you are only the second fastest harper to play this side of the sea', and then beckoned forth a harper who had been sitting quietly at the fire, clutching his harp as if his life depended upon it. He was timid; I honestly thought he was going to duck away and run, but he calmly walked to where the other was and began to play. When he finished, there was silence-- and then the applause. It really is fascinating to listen to him play." Glorfindel turned his head. "Speaking of... perhaps you will delight me with your own playing this evening?"

"An excellent idea -- if I lull you to sleep, you will not be able to leave at until morning at the least." Gildor stood up and retrieved his harp and the wine. "What might I negotiate for a song?" he mused. "A week's time with you, in exchange for a tune?"

"Steep, and yet, a price you know I would enjoy paying," answered Glorfindel, who was stretched out on his back once again.

"Fantastic. That means if I play fourteen songs, I get you now and through the winter!"

"Gildor..."

"It gets dreadfully cold out this way."

"Inglorion..."

"And the snow, well, once the pass is snowed in, no safe way to get out, just us and the trolls on the other side of the lake."

"Lover..."

Gildor smiled. "Yes?" 

"Just play for me."

"As you wish, Lord Glorfindel," he said, smirking with a bow of his head as he began to pull at the strings. "As you wish."


End file.
